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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, , 

COPYRIGHT OFFICE. 

No registration of title of this book 
as a preliminary to copyright protec- I 
tion has been found. 

Forwarded to Order Division 

(Date) 

(Apr. 5, 1901-5,000.) 



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THOSE PEOPLE FROM SKYTON 



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T^ublished for and supplied by 

H. M. CALDWELL CO. 

PUBLISHERS 

NEW YORK and BOSTON 



IT ’ 





THOSE PEOPLE FROM SKYTON” 
AND NINE OTHER STORIES 


By ABBY MORTON DIAZ 

Author of “ The William Henry Letters/’ etc. 


WITH TWELVE 
ILLUSTRATIONS 


SALEM - MASSACHUSETTS 
SAMUEL EDSON CASSINO & SON 


Copyright, 1906. by S. E. CASSINO & SON 


IUbBARY of CONGRESS 
1 Two CoDies Received 

1 jur> 1 '90^ 

Copyneht Entry 
CLASS AXC., Ne. 
COPY 


F^eceived from 
Copyright Office. 

12J1’07 


CONTENTS 


^ Chapter. 

I “ TTiose People from Sk3^on ” 

II Little Jane Ann - - - 

III Our Doll’s May«-day party 

IV A Week from Tuesday 

V Becca and Becky 

VI Tryphena’s First Valentine 

VII How Tripsy Kept Thanksgiving 

VIII A Doll’s Boarding House 

IX An Old Independence Day 

X A Funny Go - - - 


9 

17 

27 

37 

47 

57 

67 

79 

89 

99 



Illustrations 


The frisky five 
“ Now then ! Begin ** 

** Miss Yarnycom ** 

A doll for Martha 
Left behind 

“ Rap ! Rap ! Rap ! ” 
Loud voices hurried us up 
Fred and Tripsy 
In rushed Tripsy - 
“ See, see the circus ! ** 
Starting for the picnic 
Little Johnny starts 


Page 

Frontispiece 

19^ 

- 29'^ 
35 

- 39 ^ 
5/^ 

- bi- 
bs. 

- 74 " 
83 ^ 
93 - 

101 . 


THOSE PEOPLE FROM SKYTON 


It happened in this way. 

At Mrs. Carey’s they were preparing the 
Tree, and the children were skipping 
friskily about, chattering, squealing and 
perhaps peeping (just a little bit), so that 
at last some one said to me, “ Dear Miss 
Mary ! They are so fond of you ! Could 
you not take them away off somewhere and 
set them at something ! ” 

At this I gladly gathered together the 
frisky five, and away we went, racing up 
and down stairs, through long passage- 
ways, and at last up a steep, narrow flight 
into an immense attic. 


9 


10 Those People From Sky ton 

It was scarcely two minutes before Ar- 
thur had his head into an old tall hat. 
Then Dora, with a stick, knocked down 
for herself a hat and veil her grown-up sister 
had done wearing ; Hal, in a ridiculous 
soft felt hat, went hobbling around with a 
cane, four-years-old Paul chasing behind ; 
and little Nellie, by rummaging in boxes, 
found and put on a big black silk bonnet, 
sixty years old, sure. Soon they added to 
these, long skirts, long trousers, coats, vests, 
shawls — such fun as they had, rigging 
themselves out in grown-up clothes ! 

Suddenly I thought of something. “ Chil- 
dren ! ” I said, “ Hark ! Listen ! I have 
thought of something good ! Those peo- 
ple below are making ready to surprise us. 
Now let us surprise them. I will fix you 
up like travellers.” 

“ Fix me ! Fix me ! ” they cried — all 
but Nellie, sweet, patient child, who instead 
of putting herself forward, stood just watch- 
ing, and clapping, and helping, and laugh- 
ing. 


Those People From Skyton 1 1 

We made Hal up into a grandpa with 
the ridiculous felt hat and a house-coat, 
and long trousers, turned far up at the 
bottom, and the cane. Some grey mossy 
stuff pulled from a cushion did for hair and 
beard. Arthur went down tiptoe and 
brought up a suit of his big brother’s, and 
we cut him out a white paste-board collar 
so stiff and so high that his chin pointed 
upwards and he had to hold on to his tall 
hat. Dora was dressed as a fine young lady 
with trailing skirt, hat, veil and sunshade ; 
and Nellie, with her big, black bonnet, long 
black skirt and a shawl, made as funny a 
little grandma as ever you saw. 

But what could be done with four-years- 
old Paul, squatting there on a long-hair fur 
mat? Just this: He was changed info a 
dog. I put him on his hands and knees, 
tied the mat over him and let its long hair 
hang over his eyes, terrier fashion. “ Now 
you are not a real dog,” said I. “ You are 
only a make-believe toy-dog, wound up to 
go. I will lead you, and every time you 


12 Those People From Sky ton 

feel this string pull — then bark, a quick 
snapping bark like this,” — and I barked a 
quick snapping bark to show him how ; 
and as I led him round he barked when I 
pulled the string. 

“ Now remember,” said I, “ you are peo- 
ple from — well — we are next the sky — 
call it Skyton. You are the Joneses from 
Skyton, and have been invited to see the 
Tree.” 

Just then the bell jingled for us to come 
to the Tree. 

“You all go around outside,” I said. 
“ Ring the front door-bell. I will be there 
and will go inside and say you are the 
Joneses from Skyton.” 

It was then growing quite dark. They 
tip-toed down to the kitchen, then around 
outside to the front door. I was there to 
open it, and after letting them just inside 
and charging them to keep sober faces, I 
went in, and said to Mrs. Carey, “ Some 
friends of yours, the Joneses from Skyton, 
have come to see the Tree.” 


Those People From Sky ton 13 

“ From Skyton ? I know no such place,” 
she answered. “It must be Brighton, or 
Dighton. And the Joneses whom I know 
live only about two miles away.” 

I went back to the door, and returned, 
and said, very soberly, “ These Joneses 
seem to be people you have invited to see 
the Tree.” 

“ They must have mistaken the house,” 
she said. “ Tell them to try next 
door.” 

I went out and came back and told her, 
“ They are sure this is the place and that 
you are expecting them.” 

“ Why, I have not invited any Joneses 
nor anybody else,” she said, “ from Skyton 
or anywhere. What strange people ! Can’t 
you get rid of them ? ” 

I hurried out and brought the children 
further in, then I went back and said to 
Mrs. Carey, “ They are inside and wish to 
see you.” 

She stepped into the hall, and when she 
saw the frisky five standing there, in such 


14 Those People From Skyton 

array, came near shrieking out with laugh- 
ter. 

“ Hush! ” I whispered. “We will seat 
them right in front, dog and all, and when 
the folding doors open Papa and all of them 
will get great fun.” 

“ All ready I ” she called out ; and oh, 
such shouts of laughter as went up, and 
such clapping, when the doors rolled back 1 
And when Paul began to walk about and 
to bark his quick snapping bark as I pulled 
the string, it seemed as if the laughing and 
clapping never would stop. 

It was funny to see the Frisky Five — 
how through all the fun they kept their 
eyes fixed on the presents and on the candy 
bags. 

“Perhaps the Joneses from Skyton will 
dance the Virginia reel,” said Papa, after 
the Tree was stripped. 

“ Perhaps the Joneses from Skyton will 
take some ice-cream,” said Mama. 

“ Perhaps the Joneses from Skyton will 
play ‘ Twirl the platter,’” said one of the 


Those People From Skyton 15 

aunties, and she touched the dog with a 
wand, saying, like a fairy, “ Resume your 
natural shape and be a boy,” which he did. 

“ Perhaps the Joneses from Skyton 
would like to be relieved from their presents 
until they are ready to go,” said another of 
the aunties. 

You may be sure the Frisky Five agreed 
to all these things and more beside ; and 
that the dancing and twirling the platter 
in those queer rigs were sights to behold. 

It was a merry merry time, and in all the 
family gatherings since that evening the 
Frisky Five have been known as “ The 
Joneses from Skyton.” 




LITTLE JANE-ANN 
FEW mothers were talking of their 



little-girl days, saying, “ Don’t you 
remember ” this, or that, when out spoke 
one of them, and said, “ The time of the 
year, and April near, makes me remember 
‘ 3ufy, baly bily^ bely^ boly, bum' and Jane- 
AnnCary!” 

And then she had to tell the others about 
buly^ baly^ bily, bely^ boly^ bum',' and Jane- 
Ann Cary. 

It was when our home was away off in 
New York state, she said. Jane-Ann’s aunt 
lived in the other part of the house, and 
Jane-Ann had come to spend the winter 
there. She was six or seven years old, a 
bright little girl, but some one had been 


18 Little Jane- Ann 

foolish enough to tell her she was pretty 
and smart. This had just about spoiled 
the child. It made her feel proud and 
“big.” She was so pleased with her own 
self that when with other children she ex- 
pected to have her own way. She never 
seemed to think of pleasing them, and play- 
ing what they wished to play. Oh, no! 
None of that for Jane- Ann. They must 
please Jane- Ann and play what Jane-Ann 
wished to play. It seemed as if all her 
thoughts went to Jane-Ann. This was a 
pity, for really there was a deal of good in 
her. 

Of course the other children could not 
like such a child. And when April-Fool’s 
Day came they, all together, planned a plan. 

You know that now and then a new 
thing comes to school-children — some 
trick, or puzzle, or a guess-thing. The new 
thing that had come to us was, “ buly, baly^ 
bily, bely, boly, bum ! ” Whoever could 
say it three times, fast, just right, was to 
have twenty butternuts. 


NOW THEN} begin! 






\ 


21 


Little Jane-Ann 

When Jane- Ann left home that morn- 
ing, she said that she was not going to be 
April-fooled in any way. Now the plan that 
had been planned was this ; and you may 
be sure it was kept very private. As soon 
as school should be out, some of the chil- 
dren were to begin saying, “ buly^ baly^ 
This was done ; and when Jane- Ann was 
asked if she would like to try it, she said 
she would. Then it was said to her three 
times, by one standing in front of her, so 
that she would have to look that way. The 
others were standing around and privately 
passing to those behind Jane- Ann narrow 
slips of paper having “ A. F.” written on 
them, to pin on her cloak. 

“ Now say it,” said the speaker in front. 
“ Take care. Don’t get the o’s and i’s and 
a’s mixed up. Now then! Begin I ” 

Jane- Ann began quite bravely, but she 
felt the eyes of all of them fixed upon her, 
and fearing that she should get her o’s and 
i’s and a’s mixed up, she did it — buly, 
baly^ bolyT 


22 Little Jane-Ann 

“ Wrong ! ” they all shouted ; “ ‘ bily 
bely* comes before ‘ bofy ' ! ” 

“ Give her another chance ! ” said some 
one behind. For the trimming had not all 
been done. 

Jane-Ann began again. “ Wrong ! ” was 
soon shouted. For she had put “ befy ” 
between “ baly'' and “ bz/y'' 

By this time the cloak was pretty well 
trimmed at the back with “ A. F.’* paper 
ribbons, and Jane-Ann walked away, the 
children trying to keep their laughter from 
being seen or heard, with their hands, or 
by stuffing in handkerchiefs, and those who 
went her way following behind. 

When Jane-Ann entered the house 
everybody there laughed out. “ Oh Jane- 
Ann! what a pretty cloak you Vegot! 
Look behind 1 ” 

“ Oh, you can’t April-fool me / ” said 
Jane-Ann. “ Fm not going to look be- 
hind 1 ” 

“ But you are April-fooled I ” they 
shouted. And some one took a hand-glass 


23 


Little Jane-Ann 

and led her to a mirror, and when Jane- 
Ann saw all those trimmings, she pulled 
off her cloak and ran up-stairs and it was 
as much as they could do to coax her down 
to the supper-table. 

Jane-Ann was rather silent the rest of 
the day, and at night she tossed in the bed 
and had hardly fallen asleep when she woke 
herself up saying, “ buly , baly^' and Miss 
Doane, a dressmaker, who had lived a long 
time in the family, heard her sobbing, and 
went in. 

Miss Doane was one who always spoke 
right out whatever she thought, but not al- 
ways in an agreeable way. She meant well, 
but really she did not know how to talk to 
children. 

Miss Doane walked straight up to little 
Jane- Ann’s bed and said, “ What ’s the mat- 
ter } ” 

After a while Jane-Ann sobbed out, “ I 
don’t see what they all wanted to April- 
fool me for ! I don’t believe they like me^ 

“You are a little goose!” said Miss 


24 Little Jane- Ann 

Doane. “ You expect them to like you ! 
Why should they ? You don’t try to please 
them. They have to please jfou. You must 
have your way, or else you will be sulky. 
I ’ve noticed that if there ’s a paper of 
goodies in sight, your hand is usually the 
first to go into it. And you are too sure of 
being always right. Now why don’t you 
turn square about and instead of putting 
your own self foremost, hold back ? Why 
don’t you be more modest ? ” 

Of course this talk made Jane-Ann sob 
all the more, and as soon as Miss Doane 
went out and left the child, her aunt came 
in and sat down on Jane-Ann’s little bed, 
and said, “ My dear little girl ! Don’t cry ! 
For even if what Miss Doane says is true 
now, it need not be true always. There is 
plenty of good in you and you must let that 
show out. Try to please, instead of trying 
to de pleased. Never say, never do, any- 
thing that will make anyone feel bad. 
Don’t pick out the best for yourself. Don’t 
suppose yourself to be always in the right. 


25 


Little Jane-Ann 

As Miss Doane says — be modest I Think 
of Aunt Hannah — everybody’s Aunt 
Hannah! She is always so ready to do a 
kindness, so good-humored and so cheery, 
that she really seems to brighten up a room 
and to carry sunshine wherever she goes. 
Think how much good Aunt Hannah does 
in the world even in small ways. Don’t 
forget what Miss Doane said, Jane- Ann, 
and try and remember what I have said, 
too.” 

“ You would all like to know,” said this 
mother to the other mothers, after a pause, 
“ and so would I, how it was with Jane- Ann 
in later years. But she went to her own 
home soon after that, and we moved away 
off here, and I have never known whether 
she lived a pleasure-^/z/^/a;^, helpful life ; or 
a pleasure-Zaj^m^y self-ful life.” 

“ Well, the aunt was right,” said one of 
the mothers. 

“ I think Miss Doane was right, too,” 
said another one of the mothers. 

“ I wonder if ze/e could say that ‘ new 


26 Little Jane-Ann 

thing ! ’ said still another of the mothers. 
And they began all together, Boly, bely^ 
bily, bum, baly, buly, bum^'* the “ bums ” 
coming in the wrong places — and they 
made such funny sounds, and laughed so 
much, that the children came running to 
the door, and looked in with wondering 
eyes at the noisy mamas. 


OUR DOLLS’ MAY-DAY PARTY 



’HEN we had our dolls’ May-party, 


I was about six years old, and it 


was sixty years ago. 

My grown-up sister, Myra, who liked fun 
and merry times, had said the dollies of the 
neighborhood ought to have a May-day 
party, even if they did have to have it in 
the house — the weather being rather cold 
for out-doors. 

“ My Dolly invites your Dolly to my 
Doliys May-Day Party. 

That was the invitation Myra wrote out, 
and six dolls were invited with their six 
little mothers. 


27 


28 Our Dolls’ May-Day Party 

Myra said a May-day party ought to have 
a May-pole, for though the dollies, poor 
things! could not dance around it, they 
could sit around it. She stood it straight 
in a flower-pot covered with grass-green 
tissue paper, in the middle of a table spread 
with a grass-green tablecloth, and it had 
bright ribbons and shiny tinsel braid wound 
around it, and long streamers hanging from 
the top. (You may all be guessing .what 
the May-pole was made of.) 

My dolly’s pink china tea-set was taken 
down, and a chair put at each of the seven 
plates for the seven dolls to sit in. There 
were peppermints on the plates. 

But what I particularly wished to tell 
you is the curious thing that happened. 

All the party had come except my little 
cousin Betty who lived at a distance. She 
was brought in a wagon, with her doll care- 
fully wrapped in light-brown paper, as far 
as the store, and was left there, to buy a new 
hair-ribbon for her doll to wear to the May- 
party. There were many people buying, 


MYKA NAMED THiL VISITOR M ISS Y A R N YCO K N . 




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Our Dolls’ May-Day Party 3 1 

and this made her late. At last she got 
the ribbon and put it in her pocket, and 
came hurrying in, and took off her things. 
We all stood in a ring waiting to play 
“ ring-around-a-rosy.” She gave her pack- 
age to Myra, and came into the ring, and 
we all took hold hands, but waited to see 
the doll taken out of the package. 

Now comes the curious part of my story. 

Myra unwound the string, then opened 
the paper, slowly, not to damage the dress, 
and at last held up — what do you think ? 

A skein of red yarn, and an ear of corn 
for planting ! 

We just stood stock-still, and stared. 
My little cousin could not turn her eyes 
away. Two big tears rolled down her rosy 
cheeks. 

Myra saw the tears, and said, quick as a 
wink, “ Oh, what fun ! Betty, you took, 
at the store, some other person’s package. 
By and by we all will take a beautiful walk 
to the store and see about it.” 

Then, to make us laugh and feel merry. 


32 Our Dolls’ May-Day Party 

Myra took a large white handkerchief, 
rolled the yarn and ear of corn into a snug, 
long, white roll, tied a string around near 
the top to make a head; tied another around, 
further down, for the waist ; and then with 
a blunt lead pencil she made a face on the 
front of the head, and tied an apron on for 
a dress. 

As Myra did all this — well, I wish you 
could have seen Betty’s face — how the 
sober, startled look turned slowly into a 
smile. Myra named the new visitor, “ Miss 
Yarn ycorn,” and set her in a chair with the 
others. 

Now all this time Betty’s dolly was mak- 
ing a call at another place. 

Dame Morse and her grandchild Martha 
lived by themselves in a room of a house 
about half a mile away, and Dame Morse 
knit stockings and mittens for pay. 

On this May-day she was hurrying to 
finish the mate to a stocking, but — lo, 
and behold, when she came toward the toe- 
end of the foot, her yarn also came to an 


Our Dolls’ May-Day Party 33 

end ! What should she, could she, do ? 

She did this : she went to the store as 
fast as she could, first calling in a neighbor 
from next room to stay with Martha ; hur- 
ried back as fast as she could, threw off 
her hood and shawl, and was making ready 
to wind the yarn, when she heard, from 
little Martha, “ Oo — ooh ! very loud. 

The child had opened the package and 
found a beautiful doll in party-dress. 

The Dame held up both hands and 
stared with both eyes. “ Oh, where is 
my yarn ? Where did I get that doll ? 
Oh, deary me ! I have taken the wrong 
package! I must go right back to the 
store 1 ” And back she went. 

“ I know nothing about a wrong pack- 
age,” the storekeeper said, “ but you can sit 
on that stool in the corner and watch the 
door. Your package probably will come 
back.” 

The Dame sat on the stool, watching the 
door as it opened and shut ; and after some 
time it opened to let in seven anxious 


34 Our Dolls’ May-Day Party 

small girls, and one grown-up one who held 
out a package and said to the storekeeper 
in pleasant tones, “ Do you know, sir, of 
any person who has taken a package by 
mistake ! ” 

“Yes, Miss, / have! ” shouted the joy- 
ful Dame, coming forward. “I took home a 
doll to toe off my stocking with, and here 
she is! A pretty cretur, but my little 
Marthy was more pleased with it than I 
was!” 

And away the Dame trotted with her 
yarn and away went we with our dollies — 
my little cousin hugging hers very tight 
Now as to the supper; the dollies could 
only make believe taste, but still they did 
v^ry well as they sat in our laps, around 
the May-pole table. 

“ The biscuits were a pretty sight. 

So round, so cunning, and so white ; 
The cakes were very small — 

We children ate them all ! ” 

So sang my sister Myra as she cleared 
off the table. 


Our Dolls’ May-Day Party 35 

Then we all sang May-songs ; and there 
was laughing and skipping, and “ Little 
Sally Waters;” and when the children 



A DOLL FOR MARTHA. 


went home, the grown-up people said they 
were glad to have had so much of May 
brought into the house. 

And what do you think my sister did ? 
Dear Myra ! Just as good and kind as she 


36 Our Dolls’ May-Day Party 

was funny, carrying cheer wherever she 
went. Myra bought a doll, afterwards, 
dressed it in pretty clothes, and went and 
gave it to the Dame’s little Martha. 

The ear of corn ? Oh, that was to plant 
in the Dame’s bit of a flower garden. 
Would you like to know what the May- 
pole was made of ? A broom-handle. 


A WEEK FROM TUESDAY 


H IS mother was beginning to make 
gingerbread. “ Dear me ! ” she said 
suddenly, “ the ginger box is empty. Davie, 
my boy, jump up and run to the store and 
get me a quarter of a pound of ginger — 
a quarter of a pound.” 

“And Davie, spry and frisky Davie,” 
said his big sister Ellen, “ I began a story 
at Aunt Betsey’s yesterday in her last Har- 
per’s — I wish you would stop there and 
ask her to lend me the magazine for to- 
day.” 

“ And Davie,” said his other sister, Julia, 
“ won’t you ask her if I left my sleeve pat- 
tern there, yesterday ? ” 

37 


38 A Week From Tuesday 

“ Oh — I — s’pose — I can,” said Davie 
with a grunt “ I wish I did n’t have to 
do so many things ! Everybody keeps ask- 
ing me to do something. I wish I could n’t 
have anything to do but be having fun for 
a spell.” 

After Davie came back with the ginger 
and the book and the pattern, his mother 
said this to him : 

“ Davie, my boy, your sisters and I have 
been thinking while you were gone, that 
it would be a good plan if, instead of being 
asked to do something for everybody, you 
be not allowed to do anything for anybody, 
for — for — we will say a week ; and we 
will let the plan begin now, Tuesday, half- 
past ten o’clock.” 

Davie stared at his mother. Then he 
smiled. Then he looked a little queer — and 
then he skipped out, yelling “ C-k-o~o-o-o ! ” 

Next morning Davie appeared to have 
forgotten all about his week of “ having 
fun.” But when Aunt Betsy called in, and 
he went to bring her the rocking chair, as 


BEHIND 


r 








A Week From Tuesday 41 

he had been taught to do, his mother quietly 
raised her hand and moved her head a tiny 
little bit, for “ no.” Davie turned red in 
the face and walked slowly away, while 
Julia brought the chair.’ 

Though all the family knew about his 
week of “ just fun and not doing anything 
for anybody,” Davie never heard it men- 
tioned. He simply found that he was not 
asked to do any service, nor was he allowed 
to, not even his own daily work of bring- 
ing in the wood and running on errands. 
No words were needed, no ordering off, 
just a look or the lift of a forefinger in per- 
fect silence, made him understand. 

One afternoon when a shower seemed 
coming up there was a call for help in get- 
ting in the hay. Such a scampering as 
there was! Father, Ellen, Julia, brother 
Tom, the hired man, hurrying with pitch- 
forks and rakes, and the hay wagon rattling 
out of the barn I Davie started to run, too> 
eager to save the hay, but the “ no ” look 
on his mother’s face made him remember, 


42 A Week From Tuesday 

and he sat down on the doorstep all by 
himself. You see, Davie was at heart, a 
good, loving boy, and it was hard for him 
to remember that his part was to do noth- 
ing for anybody. 

He forgot again next day, when Julia had 
a bad headache and wished for some cam- 
phor from the druggist’s. He caught his 
hat down, to go, but the sudden silence of 
all made him remember again that it was 
his part to do nothing for anybody. It 
was during Davie’s week of “ having fun ” 
that a poor old woman. Aunt Ann, had a 
load of wood given her and the boys of the 
village, big and small, went to work upon 
it. Some sawed, others brought it to be 
sawed, or piled it up, and some others split 
kindling wood. A great help was this to 
Aunt Ann. 

Davie was not at the bee. Ellen hap- 
pened to go down cellar to set something 
on the ground to keep cool, and while she 
was placing a tub over it — on account of 
the cats — she spied Davie, squeezed away 


A Week From Tuesday 43 

in behind the wood pile. She did not let 
him know he was seen, for fear he would 
feel queer about it But she and Julia and 
his mother had a good laugh over it, though 
the mother’s laugh had some tears mingled 
in, from pity for her boy. 

Indeed, the poor little fellow had rather 
a hard week of it. One day his small 
brother and two small visiting cousins from 
town went egg-hunting. Eggs were needed. 
Davie’s mother was making a birthday cake 
for Aunt Betsey, also sugar kisses. She 
stood at the back door and clapped her 
hands to set the children running, and away 
they ran, into the barn and under it, and 
up in the hay mows, and among the bushes * 
and the cousins even climbed the trees, 
thinking hens might build their nests up 
there the same as birds ! One little fellow 
got shut up in the henhouse by the door 
slamming together, and cried till someone 
heard him and opened the door, just as he 
had squeezed himself part way through a 
hole and was trying to pull himself back. 


44 A Week From Tuesday 

Ellen and Julia watched the fun from 
the windows. Julia made motions with her 
lips to Ellen : “ Where ’s Davie ? ” Ellen 
smiled, then with her shoulders hunched 
up, pointed to the floor, meaning that he 
was down cellar, squeezed in behind the 
wood pile. 

It did not take a week for Davie to find 
out whether it helped a boy in “ having 
fun ” not to be asked to do anything for 
anybody. He had to sit and see his mother 
bring in an armful of wood ; to see his father 
go for the newspaper and split kindlings, 
and to see Julia and Ellen doing all kinds 
of errands. What a strange thing it was 
to have no part at all in the family duties ! 
Yet not a word had been said to him about 
the matter. No one had laughed at him to 
make him feel ashamed. In fact, no one 
had taken any special notice of him. 

It was observed on Tuesday, that Davie 
anxiously watched the hands of the clock 
as they pointed nearer and nearer to half- 
past ten ; and not very long after he was 


A Week From Tuesday 45 

seen pulling up weeds in the garden. Later 
he did as usual what had been his work to 
do. He said nothing, and his mother and 
father and sisters said nothing. On the 
part of the family, when anyone wished 
anything done he was asked to do it the 
same as if there had been no week of hav- 
ing “nothing to do but be having fun;” 
and on Davie’s part there was a very pleas- 
ant and manly willingness and alertness. 



BECKY AND BECCA 


D oing up little Jonas’ cut thumb has 
made me think of the famous 
Becky’s Salve, and I guess I must tell 
about it, for I had something to do with 
its being famous, though I was only a little 
girl seven years old. It was one New 
Year’s Night, and I was just seven, when 
that happened which made Becky give me 
the recipe. I ’ve lost it now, but I ’ve cured 
more cut fingers with it, and bruised knees, 
and stubbed toes, and bee stings and wasp 
stings, than anybody can count. 

As I said, I was a small child, only seven 
years old. Becky was an old woman then, 
and lived not far from our house. She was 
47 


48 


Becky and Becca 

a little old woman, and her granddaughter 
Becca was little, too, and pale and thin. 
Their house was unpainted, old, leaky, 
and had rags stuffed in the broken 
windows. 

Becca went to school, but her gowns 
were faded and patched, and her shoes had 
holes in the toes, and somehow she had a 
queer look in her small face, and — well — 
it was too bad, but the other children made 
fun of poor Becca. She was left out of 
their plays ; none of them walked along from 
school with her, or asked her to come and 
see them. 

The boys called Becky “ Crosspatch,” 
because she “ hollered ” at them and some- 
times came out at them with a stick. But 
I must tell you that there was reason. For 
the boys threw sand at her wdndows and 
called her names, and sometimes pounded 
the house with stones. 

One New Year’s Day there was a young 
girl named Ellen staying at our house. 
She had such a pleasant face, such a sweet 


Becky and Becca 49 

way of saying things, and was so kind and 
helpful. 

This Ellen said to us, me and my sister. 
New Year’s Day morning, when the “ wish- 
ing ” was over, “ Why don’t you children 
have your New Year’s Party at Becca’s?” 

Then she went on to speak of their lone- 
liness, and their poor home, and of how we 
would dislike being left out of everything 
as Becca was, and how little good food old 
Becky could buy with her salve and her 
herb medicines. And this good Ellen 
planned that the children’s New Year’s 
Party should be at Becky’s, and that every- 
one should carry her something good, and 
stay a little while with Becca. Mother 
said it was a good plan, and Sue and I 
went round to tell the other girls. 

All the mothers were pleased, and after 
tea, at about six o’clock, we began to 
gather, very softly, about the old house. 
There was snow on the ground, and it was 
moonlight. We were a big bit scared of 
Old Becky, and each one pushed someone 


50 


Becky and Becca 

else to knock at the door. Sue was the 
eldest of us ; I was one of the youngest, just 
seven. We huddled together by the steps, 
Sue at the top with a stone to knock with. 
Rap ! Rap / Rap ! 

( Voice inside,) “ Go ’ way ! ” 

Rap ! Rap ! Rap ! 

( Voice inside) “ Away with ye ! ” 

Sue whispered to us, “ Holler Happy 
New Year!” And we did. 

( Voice,) “ I want none of yer wishes.” 
“We want to come in. We ’ve got 
something.” 

( Voice loudly) “ Becca, where ’s my 
stick ? ” 

Just at this moment I clambered up be- 
side Sue and my foot and leg went down 
through a hole in the rotten doorstep, and 
oh, how I did cry. “ Oh^ dear I Oh ! Oh ! ” 
At this Becky opened the door, and then 
pulled me out of the hole, Becca holding 
the candle. Becky set me in a low chair 
by the fire, the others following behind. 
“We have brought you these things,” 


RAP 1 RAP ! RAP ! 

















Becky and Becca 53 

Sue said to her, “ and have come to stay a 
little while and play with Becca.” 

Becky seemed as if she could not believe 
it She just stood and looked, and when 
she saw us talking to her poor little Becca, 
and giving her some trifling thing — maybe 
a whole slate pencil, or a red apple — there 
were tears in her eyes, so Sue told mother. 

After a minute Becky shook hands with 
every one of us, and spoke her thanks as 
well as anybody could. Then she took off 
my shoe and stocking and rubbed in some 
of her salve where the skin was scraped. 
It was good salve, for the place did not 
hurt a bit after we began to play plays. 

Becky told us how to play “Tommy 
Titter’s Land,” and “ Old Mother Hipper- 
tycrip.” Tommy’s Land was on one side 
of the big kitchen, but he was hid out of 
sight, so we could run across the chalk line 
and say all together, “ I ’m on Tommy 
Titter’s Land, Tommy’s gone from home. 
Tommy’s gone to my house To steal a 
marrow bone.” But we had to look sharp 


54 


Becky and Becca 

or he would spring out from his hiding and 
catch us, and the one that was caught had 
to be //. 

“Old Mother Hippertycrip ” would 
come hobbling, with Becky’s stick for a 
cane, and try to carry off one of the chil- 
dren from their mother. She was the 
mother and we were all her children. The 
one taken would have to go to a “ den ” 
hobbling, for “ Old Mother Hippertycrip ” 
would say to her, “ Hop, now, as / do, as/ 
do, as I do.” We would try to get her 
from the Den, but whoever got caught 
would have to go to that prison herself. 

In the midst of the fun, Ellen came in, 
with some of the mothers. One of these 
had heard Becca sing a song called “ Kath- 
leen O’Moore,” and she coaxed her to sing 
it for us. And now I want to tell you that 
Ellen and one of the mothers were so 
pleased with Becca’s voice that night that 
when she grew older they paid for her to 
take singing-lessons, and she earned good 
pay by singing in a city church and took 


55 


Becky and Becca 

beautiful care of her old grandmother. 

And a good gentleman, known to Ellen, 
got that salve put on sale for Becky at all 
the drug stores round about, and it had a 
fine sale for years. There was never any- 
thing like it for children’s hurts. 

Becky gave me the recipe because hurt- 
ing myself in that hole made her open the 
door, and made the salve known, and be- 
cause it was the beginning of Becca’s good 
fortune. 

Ifhave lost the recipe as I said, but I 
could make the salve, now, only I forgot 
whether it was two spoonfuls of opadeldoc 
and one of honey, and three of balm and 
four of Burgundy oil ; or three of honey, 
and two of Burgundy oil, and four of 
opadeldoc and one of balm; or three of 
opadeldoc, and two of balm, and four of 
honey, and one of Burgundy oil ; or three 
of Burgundy oil, and two of honey, and 
four of balm, and one of opadeldoc. 



LITTLE TRYPHENA’S FIRST 
VALENTINE 



IFTY-TWO years ago this February 


JL Miss Mary over the way and I were 
seven years old. 

I had been mad with Mary Mendall ever 
since New Year’s Day when I was sent 
with a basket of seed-cakes to poor old 
Mammy Ellis, at the poorhouse, and she 
went with me. We peeped under the 
cloth ; peeped again ; peeped longer. She 
said, “ Let ’s take one.” I said, “ Oh, no ! ” 
at first very loud ; second time not so loud ; 
next time very faint ; and the end of it was 
that we each ate two. 

Now this troubled me so much nights 


57 


58 Tryphena’s First Valentine 

when I went to bed, and also when we had 
seed-cakes on the table, that I determined 
to be mad at Mary Mendall. I took no 
notice of her, would not speak, nor let her 
bite of my apple, and we made faces at 
each other. 

It was a country place, but the teacher 
had told the scholars about valentines, and 
how to make them ; and had told us of 
some pretty verses. Nearly all of the chil- 
dren made valentines that winter. I made 
mine of flower pictures — roses, pinks and 
tulips, drawn and painted by myself. 

Sammy Alden had red cheeks, and white 
teeth, and lived in a pretty house, and I 
thought I would drop my valentine on his 
doorstep. The way, the teacher said, was 
to go in the evening, drop your valentine, 
knock, and run like lightning. 

Of course everything about valentines 
had to be kept private, but I told mother, 
and she let me go out to do it right after 
supper. I went acrossways to the back 
side of Sammy’s house and climbed over 


Tryphena’s First Valentine 59 

and was stepping softly as I could toward 
the back door, when I heard the great dog 
bark, inside ; and thinking they would let 
him out at me I ran, swift, right into the 
barn — and there I stayed. I dared not 
stir out for fear the dog would hear me, or 
that somebody might be looking out of the 
windows. 

The barn was dark inside, and in tip- 
toeing about I stumbled over a milking- 
stool. I sat down on it, trembling all over 
lest a man should come, or the dog, per- 
haps. And I thought how some old strag- 
gler might be hid away there, or maybe a 
ghost, and I began to cry softly, all to my- 
self, when I heard a rustling way back in 
the darkest corner, and, right off, a strange 
kind of whisper ; loud and hoarse and long, 
thus: 

. “ Try-phe-ny / Trypheny C-l-a~r~k ! ” 

It startled me so, I said, “ Oh ! ” and 
stopped crying to listen. 

Another whisper: “ Tryphe-ny ! Don’t 
— you — know — me ? I — am — Mary 


60 Tryphena’s First Valentine 

Mendall. Come — here ! Please do ! ” 

I went, quick enough, into her corner. 
She was sitting on a ladder and we hugged 
each other for joy. For she had come some 
time before with a valentine for Sammy, 
and had been scared by the dog and had 
run into the barn to keep from being seen, 
just as I had, and durst not stir out. 

While she was whispering all this we 
heard the sound of wheels. 

Oh, dear ! ” Mary said, “ now somebody 
will bring in the horse ! And a lantern ! 
Hurry up to the haymow ! Up the ladder ! 
quick ! ” 

“ Oh, I can’t, I can’t,” I whispered. 

“ You must ! ” she whispered. “ They ’ll 
be coming ! Dog, too, maybe ! come I 
hurry ! I ’ll go ahead ! Give me your val- 
entine ! I ’ll hold ’em between my teeth.” 

Voices louder outside hurried us up very 
quickly. I slipped and said, “ Oh ! ” She 
whispered to hush me, and so dropped the 
valentines down on the barn floor. 

We pulled hay in front of us, and there 



LOUD VOICES HURRIED US UP. 









Tryphena’s First Valentine 63 

we sat on the boards hugging each other 
tight, while the horse was being put into 
the stall. Sammy was with his father. 

“Why, there on the floor are two let- 
ters!” Mr. Alden cried out. “Wonder 
how they came here! Sammy, your name 
’s on both of them.” Then we heard the 
paper tom open. 

“ Pieters in it, Sammy,” said Mr. Alden, 
and he read my verse : 

I bring you, Sammy, these flowers fine 
And sign my name. Your Valentine.” 

“ Hity-tyty ! ” said Mr. Alden. “ Let ’s 
take them into mother. Mother most al- 
ways knows about things.” 

That may have been so, but Sammy 
never found out till long, long afterward, 
who sent him his valentines, nor how they 
came to be left in the barn. 

When the house and all around were 
quiet, we crept down and then out of the 
back end of the barn. Going home, Mary 
Mendall asked me what I had been mad at 
her for, and I told her because I had had 


64 Tryphena’s First Valentine 

shamed feelings when I went to bed, and 
when we had seed-cakes for supper. She 
owned up to having the same kind of feel- 
ings and said, speaking low, “ Let us 
promise each other never to do such a thing 
again.” And we stood still there and 
promised each other. 

I told mother afterwards about what a 
time we had with our valentines, and she 
promised to keep it private. Mary Men- 
dall said she almost knew we ought to tell 
her about the seed-cakes, too. So one Sat- 
urday when she came to play with me, we 
went into the kitchen where mother was 
ironing some aprons. We stood close by 
the table. Mary Mendall nudged me with 
her elbow and said, “ Tell! ” 

“ No, you tell,” I whispered. 

“ What is it } ” mother asked, with her 
sweet smile. 

“ Trypheny and I ate some of Mammy 
Ellis's seed-cakes New Year's Dayl' Mary 
Mendall blurted out, in her quick, queer 
way. 


Tryphena’s First Valentine 65 

Mother understood right off. “ But no- 
body need do a bad thing more than once,” 
she said kindly, and said no more. 

Afterwards she frequently sent me on 
the same kind of errand, and said Mary 
Mendall would go with me, and she will 
remember how happy we felt and how light- 
ly we stepped off, so glad to be trusted, and 
that we were worthy to be trusted I Miss 
Mary, over the way, will remember all this 
I have been telling and plenty more. We 
have lived neighbors all our lives, and have 
never made up faces at each other, nor been 
anything but loving friends. Since that 
time of the seed-cakes I have many a time 
gone to her for advice, and it has always 
been strong for the right. 



HOW TRIPSY KEPT THANKS- 
GIVING 



‘RED had whittled out his little boat 


JL very well for a six-years-old boy. 
The masts were about the size of a large 
darning-needle, and he was sitting on the 
back door-steps, trying to fasten some 
thread on them, for ropes. 

Tripsy, Fred’s little dog, with lots of hair 
and plenty of it falling over his eyes, stood 
just above, wagging his tail, watching his 
master’s face, all ready for a spring upon 
him. 

For such a playful little dog as Tripsy 
was ! and such a loving one I He followed 
Fred everywhere, slept with him, waked 


68 Tripsy’s Thanksgiving 

him in the morning by tickling his 
nose — being in a hurry to begin the caper- 
ing, the pillow-fights, and the scrambling 
under the bed-clothes. And he was a bright 
little dog too ! He could “ sing,” sit up 
and say his piece, and speak for his food, 
and he had even been taught to speak out 
twice, quick and sharp, when he scratched 
on the door to be let in. 

Fred had his boat set carefully, and was 
drawing his thread very carefully through 
a crack at the top of his mast. And Trip 
still stood waiting, his tail a-wagging, his 
body quivering, his mouth partly open. All 
at once Fred began whistling to himself 
very softly, hardly knowing that he did so. 
Instantly, Trip sprang upon him knocking 
the little boat to the ground. 

“ Be off ! off with you ! ” cried Fred, at 
the same time dealing Trip a smart cuff. 
“ See what you Ve done ! ” 

The cuff hurled Trip from the step, and 
as if dodging from Fred’s scolding voice 
and stamping feet, he leaped in full gallop 


FRKD AND TRIPSY 








Tripsy’s Thanksgiving 7 1 

down the garden-path and across the 
flower-beds. 

At tea-time, Fred found no little dog 
under his chair. He went to the door and 
called, “Tripsy! Trip! Trip I Here 
Tripsy I ” But no litde dog came bound- 
ing in. He was still missing at bed-time. 
Fred had searched through the house, 
looked in every closet, in the barn and the 
garden. Then while daylight lasted he had 
stood crying at the window, listening all 
the time with a sick little heart for a scratch 
upon the door. He went to bed at last, 
crying. 

“ Oh, I know,” said his big brother Ned, 
sorry for him, “ he is up at Grandma’s 1 ” 
and started upon a run, for Grandma lived 
only half a mile away, and she had saved 
many a nice bone for Tripsy. 

Fred, while sitting up in bed, keeping 
awake to hear the news, toppled over in a 
sound sleep, but he still sobbed in his 
dreams ; and by daylight he was up and 
roaming about the house, looking into all 


72 T ripsy’s Thanksgiving 

the lonesome rooms — for Ned had found 
no Tripsy up at Grandpa’s. 

Nor could Tripsy be heard from down 
in the town — only somebody said some- 
body saw some boy throw a stone at a dog. 

Fred tried, often, to tell his mother just 
how Trip ran away; but when he had told 
as far as the cuff, he would burst out with, 
“ Oh, I hit him! I hit poor little Tripsy! 
Oh dear!” 

All through that day, which was a rainy 
one, and for many days, Fred was going 
from window to window, peering out, and 
often saying to himself, “ Poor little doggy ! 
Oh, I never would hurt him again ! Oh, 
where did Tripsy go ! ” 

Where Tripsy went was found out, for 
sure. Thanksgiving Day, by — well, by a 
collar — up at Grandpa’s where had come 
numerous aunts, uncles, small cousins and 
big ones ; and among the big ones was 
Myra, called, always, “ Cousin Smyle.” At 
home, and when visiting any of the fami- 
lies, she insisted that the people should 


73 


Tripsy’s Thanksgiving 

laugh, all together, once every day ; for this, 
she said, would clear away all their bad 
feelings — if they had any. She usually 
took them just before, or after, a meal, and 
made them begin by looking as pleasant as 
they could; and of course trying so hard 
to look as pleasant as they could, would 
set them laughing. 

Shortly before Thanksgiving Fred had 
been given another little dog, smooth, with 
brown spots and lovely brown eyes — a 
dear little dog, very bright, but — not 
Tripsy. At first he was called “ Number 
Two; ” but this soon changed to “ Two-ey ” 

As the dinner company at Grandpa’s 
were chatting just before dessert, “ Cousin 
Smyle ” said, “ Time to laugh ! Now then ! 
All rise! Those who can’t look pleasant 
look pleasant as they can I ” 

Suddenly, as they were laughing, there 
came a smart scratch at the door and with 
it two quick snapping barks. Everybody 
listened. It was done again. Some one 
near the door turned the latch and, with 


74 Tripsy’s Thanksgiving 

one spring, in rushed Tripsy ! He jumped 
upon Fred, quivering and acting as if he 
wished to get inside of his jacket, and 
Fred clasped his arms tight around him, 
laughing and crying both at once. 

When anybody could speak, or move. 
Grandma pointed toward the lounge in the 
corner, and there, under it, flat upon the 
floor, with only his face and his two paws 
in sight, was poor “ Two-ey,” his sad eyes 
fixed upon Trip. 

And now I will tell you what was found 
out afterwards. 

When poor, cuffed Tripsy rushed down 
the garden-path and over the flower-beds 
that day, he went through the fence and 
then swift along the sidewalk, farther and 
farther away. And then the stone thrown 
at him by “ some boy ” hurt him so badly 
that he crept off under some bushes, out 
of sight. A city gentleman with his wife 
and small boy had been staying at his wife’s 
old home some distance from the village, 
by a beautiful lake, and on their way back 


IN RUSHED TRll’SY. 









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Tripsy’s Thanksgiving 77 

to the depot had stopped to pick some 
blueberries. Hearing the faint whine of a 
dog they searched and after a while found 
Trip; and seeing that his leg was broken 
they took the things out of a big covered 
basket, placed him in that and took him by 
train to their far-off city home, and had 
his leg properly set and cared for; and as 
he wore no collar, and seemed a poor, for- 
saken creature — though a nice dog — 
they kept him for their small boy, James. 
When they passed through the place again 
that eventful Thursday to spend Thanks- 
giving at the old home by the lake. Trip 
was with little James, and must have no- 
ticed many objects he had seen before, for 
he grew uneasy, and at the turn of a road 
he sprang from the carriage as if shot out 
of a gun, and was beyond sight in a mo- 
ment. 

Finding no one in the house — so the 
neighbors said who saw him — he started 
“full tilt ” for Grandpa’s. 

Tripsy came back wearing a handsome 


78 T ripsy’s Thanksgiving 

collar, on which was marked his city, street 
and number; and you may like to know 
that “ Two-ey” was sent to the other boy, 
with a letter of thanks for kindness to 
Tripsy ; and that during the following 
summer the other boy often came down 
from the lake to see Fred, and that Fred 
went there, and that the two small boys 
and the two small dogs had many a good 
time together. 


A DOLLS’ BOARDING-HOUSE 


M ary CARY and Annie Oliver, and 
Agnes Scott, and Lucy Browne, 
had come, one at a time, with their dolls, to 
Bessie Miller’s, Number 44, to ask about 
a Dolls’ Boarding-House. 

It all happened in this way. One night 
when Bessie Miller was gathering up her 
own dolls to undress and put to bed, she 
said, “Now I think it is too bad! Some 
of the girls are going away with their 
mothers this summer, and their mothers’ 
trunks are too full to take more than one 
doll in a trunk, and the others have to be 
eft all alone! ” 

Her big brother Jamie looked up from 

79 


80 A Dolls’ Boarding-House 

his lesson-book. “ Why don’t you keep a 
Dolls’ Boarding-House ” he asked her. 
“ Miss Clarke, next street, takes in cats to 
keep while their owners are away. Why 
not take in dolls ” 

“Yes, Bessie, why not? ” said her sister 
Ruth. “ What good times you would 
have with the dolls ! ” 

“ Miss Clarke puts a notice in the papers,” 
said Jamie. 

“ That would never do for us,” said 
Ruth. “We might be crowded out of the 
house.” 

Bessie’s mother entered into the little 
plan, and advised that Bessie print a notice 
on a card and drop the card in at some 
front door where children lived, and they 
would tell other children, and thus the 
news would spread. And it happened 
just so. 

The first one to arrive was Mary Carey, 
with her Dolly-Ann hugged very close. 
She wanted to know if dolls that had their 
heads part way off could come. Dolly- 


A Dolls’ Boarding-House 8 1 

Ann’s was not much off, but it tipped 
over some. 

Bessie said Dolly-Ann could come, all 
the same, and would be well taken care 
of, poor dear! just the place for Dolly- 
Ann I 

In the course of a week more than 
twenty dolls and rag-babies were brought 
to Bessie. All those coming from the 
same family, large or small, were to be 
taken for a cent a week, for the lot. 

The question was, “ Where should they 
sleep ” The crib Bessie used to sleep in 
would be too small for them all to lie 
down in. But Bessie’s mother thought 
those having stiff legs might be stood up 
inside, against the railing. 

“ Oh dear I ” said Bessie, almost crying, 
“ they could not sleep standing up ! — and 
some of them have their sawdust coming 
out!” 

Yet at last the small cot-bed was placed 
in a corner of Bessie’s room. A ridge all 
around next to the wall, was made, for a 


82 A Dolls’ Boarding-House 

pillow; and the first night when the dolls 
had been put to bed, the people looked in 
at the door to see. 

It had been agreed that those whose 
clothes were made to take off should be 
undressed every night, and dressed in the 
morning. This was fun for Bessie, but it 
took so long that cousin Maude came in to 
help. 

Not a doll brought her carriage, yet it 
was in the agreement that they must go 
out to ride. What should be done about 
that ? 

“ Bring down from the attic the old 
carriage Bessie used to ride in when she 
was a doll — I mean a baby! ” said Bessie’s 
mother. 

“Just the thing! ” said Ruth, and down 
came the old baby-carriage. The dolls, 
with their outdoor things on, were placed 
close together all around inside. Just for 
fun, Agnes Scott’s great rag-baby was 
seated on top, outside, well tied down; 
and some smaller ones, on each side of 


SEE, SEE THE CIRCUS ! ” 











A Dolls’ Boarding-House 85 

her and behind, had their legs put through 
the top, in good places. J amie slyly tucked 
in a flag, at the back, to wave in the 
breeze. 

Maude and Bessie made a good span as 
they trotted along. They went down the 
shadiest sidewalks, and at length found 
themselves in a very mean-looking street, 
with very poor-looking, bareheaded child- 
ren, some barefoot, and all seeming to be 
living outdoors. 

“ Circus coming! ” cried one little black- 
eyed girl, and soon there was quite a pro- 
cession behind, and others running along- 
side the carriage, staring at the dolls, 
saying, “ See I See I See all these I ” 

Bessie and Maude stopped to let them 
look, then turned back, the procession 
following for quite a way, some of them 
saying, “ Please give me one ? ” 

“ If they were mine I would,” said Bessie. 

“ Now I think these dolls ought to go 
on a picnic,” said Jamie one morning, as 
Bessie and Maude were standing by the 


86 A Dolls’ Boarding-House 

great arm chair where the dolls sat after 
being dressed for the day. 

“ Well,” said Ruth, “ we will take them 
to the grove, and invite the next-house 
little girls to go along.” 

“ Then I must be making some cookies,” 
said Bessie’s mother. 

“Yes,” said Ruth. 

“ And I will wheel over at cookey-time,” 
said Jamie, “and try the cookies and make 
some lemonade.” 

It was a merry picnic. The doll board- 
ers had wreaths made for them, also small 
swings, just right to be swung in. They 
had their naps under an overhanging 
grapevine. 

Bessie’s mother could not go, but while 
they were all away she had a happy 
thought. It was to buy a lot of small 
dolls, not costly ones, and invite in some 
girls for an afternoon, each to bring pretty 
pieces, silk, ribbon, lace and muslin. And 
Ruth would ask in a few of her girls to 
cut out and all together they would dress 


A Dolls’ Boarding-House 87 

the dolls, and next day Bessie and Maude 
would take them in the baby-carriage down 
to the mean-looking street and when the 
poor, small children came running along, 
why then a doll should be given to each 
little girl, for her very own to keep. 

This was all done. The baby-carriage, 
well-filled, started off as before, except that 
instead of one flag at the back, Jamie had 
stuck little tots of flags all around. Ruth 
and her girls, and the girls that helped 
dress the dolls, walked a little behind, on 
the other side of the street, in order to 
see the circus. The street children kept 
along with the Show, as before, and when 
the dolls were given to them, and with 
each a tiny tot of a flag, they just stood 
still and stared with delight — the thank 
yon's coming thick and fast and loud ; and 
then every child darted indoors to show 
her treasures. 

And these are some of the good times 
Bessie and the others had while she was 
keeping a Dolls’ Boarding-House. 


INDEPENDENCE DAY IN OLD 
PLYMOUTH WHEN MRS. DIAZ 
WAS SCHOOLMA’AM 

HE “ Fourth,” in those days, was al- 



JL ways a children’s celebration, and 
in one quarter of the old pilgrim-town for 
some years the Independence doings were 
carried on by the School ma’am. 

And how did children celebrate then.? 

Well, the first thing small boys did was 
to get up, and out-doors, early in the 
morning, and make a noise. In the 
morning.? In the night, if they could. 
For the main thing with every boy was 
to be out and making a noise as early as 
any other boy. 


89 


90 Independence Day 

In vain did mothers, grandmothers, 
aunties, take means for keeping the small 
boys asleep. No matter what precautions 
were taken, before daylight there would 
come showers of pebbles upon the roof, 
and shouts and whistlings, with long yells 
like these: Tom-mee-ee-ee-ee Johnee-i- 
ee-o-oo-oo-oo ! ” “ Why do n't ye come o-u-t ? ” 
And almost before their eyes were open 
those small boys would tumble out of bed 
and into their worst clothes, and down 
stairs, and in a minute or two their shouts 
and their crackers, would be heard with 
the others. 

Later on, at sunrise, would be added 
the ringing of bells and the booming of 
cannon, and the popping off of crackers in 
barrels, and the snapping of torpedoes, 
and the banging of guns, and the drum- 
ming of drums, and more footings of more 
horns, until that part of the “ celebrating ” 
was complete. 

A sight to behold were those small 
boys at breakfast time, with hands black- 


91 


Independence Day 

ened, faces smirched, holes burnt in their 
clothes; yet gay and happy — for had 
they not been up and out with the other 
boys, in the very midst of the goings-on, 
and helped to make the goings-on ? And 
now, would they not be ready for the 
picnic? Were not their second-best 
clothes laid out on the bed, with collars 
and ribbons, and best hats and caps, and 
a flag to wave in the hay-wagon ? 

For whether children went to the “ Pic- 
nic Schoolma’am’s ” school, or to other 
schools, the Picnic Schoolma’am always 
let them put their names on her “ List,” 
and told them the Picnic rule: 

“ The children of a family must take 
enough for themselves to eat, and each child 
a tin cup or other kind to drink from, and 
ten cents to pay for the hay-wagons, horses 
and drivers^ 

The hay-wagons were long, and were 
railed about, and were trimmed with green 
boughs, and were drawn by two or per- 
haps four, horses. They had seats run- 


92 Independence Day 

ning around the sides and across the 
middle, and the baskets could go under 
the seats. 

At ten o’clock the hay-wagons were at 
the Picnic Schoolma’am’s school-house, 
and the children were there too, flags in 
hand, scrambling in at the front, behind, 
and over the wheels. The “ List ” was 
called over. Then at the Schoolma’am’s 
signal the drivers caught up the reins and 
snapped their whips, the horses began to 
step, the wheels began to go round, the 
hay-wagons began to go along, the flags 
began to wave, the hurrahs began to sound, 
and the Picnic began to begin. 

Now, though it was a children’s cele- 
bration, some of the grown-up folk always 
wished they could be in it, and thus it 
came to pass that buggies and carryalls 
were to be seen coming behind the Pro- 
cession. And it was well always that they 
came; for up at the Grove, by the blue 
waters of “ Little Billington,” grown-up 
people were much needed to put up the 


STARTING FOR THE PICNIC 



« 











95 


Independence Day 

ropes for swings, and to swing the swing- 
ers, and to keep the smallest little folk out 
of “ Little Billington,” and to help the 
Schoolma’am about the games — “Fox 
and Geese,” “Tag,” “Touch the Goal,” 
“Little Sally Waters,” and “Fairy-Ann- 
my-Fairy.” 

Also, when dinner-time came, grown- 
up folk were needed to spread down the 
tablecloths in the smoothest spot. It 
was the children’s part to trim all the 
cloths around the edges with wreaths 
made of oak leaves, putting a flower here 
and there. This work kept them from 
thinking they were hungry and waiting 
for dinner, or “ Dry ” and waiting for the 
lemonade to be done. 

After dinner, more fun. Here came 
the drawback of having grown-up folk 
along — grown-up folk always know when 
it is time to go home. When that time 
came, the food that had been left was 
handed round ; and everybody’s cups and 
things had to go into everybody’s right 


96 Independence Day 

basket; and the whole crowd, old and 
young, had to look about to find any cup, 
plate, spoon, fork, knife, shawl, handker- 
chief, that might have been dropped any- 
where ; and every boy and girl had to be 
sure of taking all their things and the 
right things. 

Then the horses were untied from the 
trees and put to the wagons, and then 
came another scramble of the children 
into the wagons, behind, in front, over the 
wheels, jubilant as ever, for the Picnic 
w^as not yet at an end. Oh no ! There 
was the ride back, and there was the cheer- 
ing, and the singing, and the flag-waving. 

For the going home was by a long way 
round, through the town. The children 
knew how to sing, and sing they did, at 
the tops of their voices, especially Amer- 
ica'' “ Columbia the Gem of the Ocean'' 
and “ Star Spa7igled Banner 1' They 
knew how to wave tremendously, and 
wave they did, giving “three cheers” — 
Fourth of July cheers, whenever people 


97 


Independence Day 

came running to their windows to look 
out ; and many a wave and many a cheer 
came back from carriages that met the 
Procession, and from the sidewalks; and 
very likely, to the delight of the hay- 
wagons, someone would shout, “ There 
goes the Schoolma’am’s Independence 
Day Picnic! ” 

Arrived at their own village the children 
were dropped at their various homes, loth 
to leave, yet not given wholly up to sorrow, 
for it was about time for the sunset bell- 
ringing ; and in the evening, after supper, 
there would be family gatherings on the 
hill-tops to watch the rockets and fire- 
works sent up from the town. 

Thus, with a late going-to-bed, would 
be ended the Plymouth Children’s Fourth 
of July. 

And now, is n’t it funny ? Those noise- 
loving boys and girls are themselves the 
grown-up folk, and are trying to keep 
their own children and grandchildren 
asleep. Independence Day Morning! 


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A FUNNY GO 


I T was long, long ago ! Pa’s Grandpa 
and Grandma lived up at Indian Brook, 
and for all they were over seventy they 
settled to have Thanksgiving themselves, 
that year, and Grandma was to do every 
speck of the work, with Grandpa helping. 

They invited Daddy Morse, he being 
poor and having no family but an old bony 
horse; and Daughter Mary and her two 
grown-up girls, Miranda and Mary Ann, 
and their Pa; and Miss Polly Jarvis, a lone 
woman, and quite tall and slim ; and U ncle 
John and Aunt John, and their son John’s 
widow, and their little grandson, Johnny — 
about six, he was — and their hired girl. 
99 


Lore. 


100 


A Funny Go 

It was a lonesome country all around 
there. Old Daddy Morse lived about a 
mile away ; Daughter Mary much further ; 
Miss Polly Jarvis came next; and the fur- 
thest off was Uncle John and Aunt John, 
about seven miles from Grandpa’s. Miss 
Polly Jarvis liked a little fun, and she said, 
“ Let ’s go in a procession, and make the old 
folks laugh,” and they did. 

Uncle John was to start in good season, 
in a sleigh; Miss Polly Jarvis was to bor- 
row a horse and go behind him, horse- 
back, woman-fashion ; Daughter Mary’s 
family were to come next behind Miss 
Polly Jarvis in a big horse-sled, and Daddy 
Morse next, on his old horse, man-fashion. 
Dinner time was two o’clock. 

Uncle John was late in starting because 
one of his sheep got hurt. As the grown- 
up folks filled the sleigh, Johnny had his 
low-chair fastened firm on to his sled, and 
stakes to hold on by, and the sled-rope put 
around the back of the sleigh — just as he 
went to school, sometimes. Miss Polly 


LITTLE JOHNNY STARTS, 







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103 


A Funny Go 

Jarvis had said, “Plenty of bells,” and 
Uncle John had them. It was a cold day 
and Johnny had his fur ear-pieces tied down 
snug, and a good warm overcoat, and a com- 
forter tied round his neck, and thick mit- 
tens. 

And now comes the curious part of the 
story. 

They had gone more than half way when, 
just after they had passed over a “ jounce, ’ 
the rope quietly parted where it had been 
spliced, the two ends dropped on the 
ground, and the sleigh kept right on, leav- 
ing poor Johnny sitting there in the 
woods — and he was so scared he did not 
think to “ holler” till the sleigh was so far 
ahead that the jingle kept him from being 
heard. 

And there Johnny sat, crying. 

After a while a sleigh with a man in it 
came there by a road that led right across 
Johnny’s road. When the man heard 
Johnny’s strange little story, he said, 
“ They ’ll be sure to turn back, but I ’m in 


104 


A Funny Go 

a great hurry, and I will take you my way, 
into a house. And in order that they may 
find you I will pin a large piece of paper 
to this tree, and make a great Hand on the 
paper, pointing the way. I can stick the 
paper on this stiff twig of a tree. Then 
they ’ll know.” 

The man then tore a big piece of paper 
off his bundle, and wrote on it, “ The Boy 
will be found at Mr, Benjamin Moreys, 
Red House, green front door,'' and drew a 
Hand on it with a big finger pointing the 
way, and stuck the paper on a stiff twig. 

He then took Johnny, sled and all, into 
his sleigh and carried him by the cross- 
road, up hills and down hills, to Mr. Ben- 
jamin Morey’s. 

When Uncle John had driven on al- 
most to Miss Polly Jarvis’s, he happened 
to look around — and no Johnny ! They 
turned right about and drove fast, without 
speaking, till they came to the place where 
they last saw Johnny. Then they turned 
again and drove back slowly towards 


105 


A Funny Go 

Grandpa’s, looking into the woods, till they 
came to the cross-road. This time the hired 
girl spied the paper and jumped out and 
read to them the words. 

Now the wind had turned the paper 
round so that the Hand pointed just the 
wrong way — and they took that way, and 
rode on, and on, till by asking questions 
they found their mistake, and thus it was 
some time before they found their Johnny. 

Well, Daddy Morse, he was waiting all 
this time with his old horse hitched at a 
post; and Daughter Mary and Miranda and 
Mary Ann and their Pa were waiting with 
their things on, the horse-sled at the door; 
and Miss Polly Jarvis, she was waiting with 
her things on, and her horse hitched close 
by ; all these all this time were looking out, 
and wondering why Uncle John’s folks 
did n’t come along. 

Meantime the table at Grandpa’s was 
ready set, and all the things were placed on 
the great brick hearth to keep warm. Hour 
after hour passed. “Where do you sup- 


105 


A Funny Go 


pose is Miss Polly Jarvis?” “Surely 
Mary’s folks would come ! ” “ Daddy Morse 
must be sick! ” “ And where are John and 
his family ? ” 

As time passed on, Grandma said, at last, 
“ I do believe we ’ve mistook the day. Are 
you sure ’tis Thursday ? ” 

“ Nothing sure in this world,” said Grand- 
pa, going to the window. “ ’Tis most sun- 
set! There comes Hannah Tilson across 
the fields I ” 

What will she think ? ” cried Grandma 
“Hurry!” and they two hurried almost 
everything out of sight. 

“ There ’s a procession a-coming ! ” said 
Hannah Tilson, stepping in at the door. 

And sure enough, there they were! 
Uncle John’s sleigh, with Johnny behind i 
Daddy Morse on his old bony horse. 
Daughter Mary with Miranda and Mary 
Ann, and their Pa; and Miss Polly Jarvis, 
riding sideways, horseback. 

All told at once of their standings at the 
window, their lookings, their wonderings. 


107 


A Funny Go 

their waitings and their belatings. And 
after all this, of a Thanksgiving dinner 
there was only the smell ! But Hannah 
Tilson and Aunt John’s hired girl stepped 
round lively and things were soon put in 
right shape. 

They were a hungry crowd, everything 
tasted good, all hands helped wash up the 
dishes, and little Johnny kept them laugh- 
ing by telling all that was done to please 
him, and of the goodies given him to eat, 
and how they toasted his feet, and wiped 
his eyes, at Mr. Benjamin Morey’s. 


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